Paris, Amsterdam, and possibly Ireland… here we come!
He just ethered an alligator
man polar bears can do this shit
but i cant eat chicken?
wheres a vegan, you better tell that bear hes an asshole or imma be pissed
IS NOBODY GONNA ASK THE OBVIOUS QUESTION WHERE HE FOUND AN ALLIGATOR IN THE ARTIC REALLY? ALL YOU TUMBLR INTELLECTS ALL YOU WIKI GENIUSES
Exactly what I was thinking.
And I bet that polar bear had the same question right before he fucked him up.
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
(Source: aplaceforlovelynoise)942 plays
I used to write much more than I do now. When I would get upset, I would write. The feelings that didn’t make sense found their way out of my brain, through my choked up throat and glossy tears and through the tips of my fingers where they would form coherent thoughts and sentences. It made sense. It all made so much sense.
Now, I don’t know what makes sense anymore. Not much does. So much is shifting and changing within me, and I don’t know how to adapt to it. He’s around, and then he’s not. And then he’s around, and then he’s not. It’s a vicious cycle and I know it’s poisonous. and I finally feel like I am done. Like truly, done with no qualms or issues about it. No tears shed, no nothing. It feels so strange though to not really have any emotional ties or issues to it. I feel like I should be crying and upset and an emotional wreck and I’m not. I’m living life happy, free, and with no second thought about him. Well, that’s not entirely true, I do think about it. But not nearly as much as I thought I would. If anything, I just want answers. I don’t want him back, and I don’t want him around really. I just want answers. What changed? Why did you feel the need to just stop talking to me completely and ignore me for no reason? Why couldn’t you man up and tell me to my face that you were overwhelmed, stressed, and pressured? The man I fell in love with was a lot of fucked up things, but certainly not a coward. I don’t know him anymore. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t hurt as much. It’s hard to love someone you don’t really know. Maybe that’s why there’s nothing to write about anymore. The love story is over. The chapter is done. It’s time to close it completely.
I think this is what Kubler-Ross meant by acceptance- the final stage of grief. All consuming, thorough, true peace with the traumatic event that caused the grief in the first place. Now it is time to finally, completely, truly move on.
Time to write a new chapter.